Invisible

I stood up quickly and backed up towards my front door. I kept eye contact with the boys chocolate colored eyes. He had honey-colored hair and slight stubble on his chin.

And he kept staring at me as I stare at him.

Two people in one day? After being ignored for months?

I turned quickly and put my hand on the door handle. I twisted it.

It was locked.

"You're fucking kidding me!" I said aloud. I tried the door again, to no avail. I turned back around and saw the creep was still staring. I pushed the rag into my arm harder, even though it had stopped bleeding at this point. I looked up at the boy again. I noticed he never quite looked straight at me, but I knew he was looking at me.

Did that make sense?

No, no it didn't. None of this made sense. I began to pace, thinking of ways to break into my own house. I suddenly remembered my bedroom window. I had left it open.

I trotted down my porch steps and swung around to the side of my house. I looked up. Yup. It was open. I ditched the rag I was holding to my forearm as it started to lightly sprinkle down rain.

I grabbed hold of the first branch of the tree right near my window. I took a deep breath, then glanced back at the house across the street. I looked straight into the boys eyes once again, but he didn't look into mine. His eyes looked... sad? I shook my head, telling myself I was definitely losing it and that I needed sleep. Then I began to climb.

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I sighed and flopped into my bed, wearing flannel pants and a T shirt with a cat in sunglasses on it. I stared at the ceiling. What a day. I was, without a doubt, losing my marbles. I turned to my side and righted my alarm clock. Holy shit, I thought. It was already 2 am! I shoved my face into my pillow and willed my brain to shut up and let me sleep.

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The next morning I groaned as Mitch Lucker's voice filled my room once again. I rolled out of bed, and, once again, it took me nearly half an hour to actually get up. I took a speed shower and then yanked a Green Day shirt over my head. I pulled on some dark washed jeans, then rolled them up about mid-shin. I slipped on the same pair of all black vans then ran to the bathroom. I decided to leave my hair naturally slightly wavy and just applied a think layer of mascara on each eye, not wanting to have to deal with trying to make my eyeliner even. I was starved, so I grabbed my bag, bounded down the stairs, and grabbed a pop tart. Chewing happily, I walked out my house. Bye, Mom.. I thought

i jumped down my porch steps and began walking to school. Remembering the events of last night (which I had decided was a dream), I glanced across the street.

I halted and nearly dropped my pop tart. It was that boy again. He was outside his house.

Talking to Jack.

I very slowly took a bite of my pop tart and continued walking. Unfortunately, at that moment they began walking to. I listened in to their conversation. Not like they would notice or care. The conversation was short, and went a bit like this:

Jack: "So, your new to Baltimore?"

Honey-Haired Kid: "Um, yeah."

Weird. I thought. He had a British accent. couldn't wait to see the sluts swoon over this one.

Jack: "Oh. Where're you from?"

Honey-Haired Kid: "Essex."

Jack: "Cool."

It was silent for a moment.

Jack: "I like your shirt."

Honey-Haired kid laughed nervously, then said, "You like Blink?"

Jack: "Hell yeah! What's your name, man?"

Honey-Haired Kid: "Alex. Alex Gaskarth."

Alex. I thought to myself. Alex Gaskarth.

Just like Jack Barakat, it was strange.

And just like Jack Barakat, it sounded familiar.

Notes

THIS DELETED LIKE TWICE.

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I WILL DROP DA BOMB SOON MAYBE MOOHAHAHAHH I PROMISE YOU ARE NOT EXPECTING IT.